


Hilbertina

by istie



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Unhealthy Relationships, fanfic inside fanfic, hints of D/s, the loveberg is really only there if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9253802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istie/pseuds/istie
Summary: It's just your regular night shift on the U.S.S. Hephaestus station: Eiffel's bored, HIlbert's handcuffed to a table, and Lovelace hasn't got anything better to do.  Will our heroes survive the night?  Plus, steamy makeout sessions while hiding from the plant monster, Goddard Futuristics' proprietary plating alloy, skills you pick up in the gulag, and the soporific effects of longhand astronavigational calculations.[This takes place sometime between episode 22 "Mutually Assured Destruction" and episode 26 "Do No Harm".]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hilariously, this was written before I listened to episode 38 "Happy Endings".

**INT. U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – COMMUNICATIONS ROOM – 2145 HOURS**

 

> EIFFEL

Good evening, dear listeners, and welcome to night who even gives a fuck aboard the USS nothing ever happens here!  This is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, reporting for what passes as duty rotation here in the tiny little capsule that houses this ridiculously expensive yet still shitty comms equipment!  Glad you could join me for hour … what time is it, Hera?

 

> HERA

Five minutes since you asked last time.

 

> EIFFEL

So …

_Hera SIGHS._

 

> HERA

Twenty-one hundred forty _seven_ hours.

 

> EIFFEL

Hour three point seven five of a shift that’s moving slower than molasses up the space-facing side of Lovelace’s shuttle!  UUUUUGGGGHHHH.

_Sound of a metallic BANG – Doug has banged his head against the wall, relatively lightly._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

I can’t even do my time-honoured time- _wasting_ trick of scanning through every channel to see if our friends the space aliens feel like broadcasting Earth’s Greatest Hits, volume six hundred and fifty-two, because her royal captainship has cannibalized the secondary satellite dish for a piece of wire to fix the main console in her tin can lifeboat while doctor evil scientist who experiments on people for fun synthesizes some more titanium to replace it.  And Minkowski’s sleeping.

_Metallic BANG number two.  A little harder this time._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

I am so fucking bored.

 

> HERA

We could play a game.

 

> EIFFEL

Like what?

 

> HERA

I don’t know.  Chess?

 

> EIFFEL

Ha ha, very funny.  That would take us to twenty-one hundred fifty-one hours, and that’s stretching it.

 

> HERA

How about top ten lists again?

 

> EIFFEL

Your list of “top ten interesting ways humans can die in under sixty seconds” really did a number on my sleep hygiene, and Minkowski says my regular hygiene is bad enough, so I’d rather not.

 

> HERA

You could reread Pryce and—

 

> EIFFEL

Yeah I’m gonna stop you right there.

 

> HERA

How about taking up a hobby?

 

> EIFFEL

Like what?  What could I possibly do in this godforsaken sardine tin?  We don’t exactly have knitting needles and yarn just … hanging around.  Ooh, I could take up scrapbooking with all the scrap metal we have hanging around.

 

> HERA

Doctor Hilbert says he needs that to reconstitute the wiring for the secondary satellite dish.

 

> EIFFEL

He can’t need all of it.

 

> HERA

Well, based on the amount of pure titanium in Goddard Futuristics’ proprietary plating alloy, three metres of communications-grade titanium wire would require—

 

> EIFFEL

Point taken, Hera, no need to do the math.

_A beat of SILENCE._

 

> EIFFEL

What’s Lovelace doing?

 

> HERA

Pacing in engineering.  Why?

 

> EIFFEL

Momentary masochistic desire to voluntarily seek out literally anything else to do.  Quashed it.

_Another beat of SILENCE._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

Any way we could mess with Hilbert without him knowing it?

 

> HERA

That depends.  How lethal do you want it, how long do you want the effects to last, and do you want it to be traceable?

 

> EIFFEL

Yeesh, I just meant, like, flickering the lights or something.

 

> HERA

Somehow I don’t think he’d be very bothered.

 

> EIFFEL

I guess that’s not really weird around here.

 

> HERA

Unfortunately not.

_A third beat of SILENCE._

 

> EIFFEL

So … does anyone have any knitting needles?

 

> HERA

I suppose we could make some.  The yarn would be harder to come by.  Also, I don’t believe I have any information on knitting in my data banks.   You’d have to figure it out yourself.

 

> EIFFEL

Funnily enough the only person I would even slightly suspect of knowing how to knit would be Hilbert.

 

> HERA

Why’s that?

 

> EIFFEL

I dunno, seems like the type of skill you might pick up in the gulag.  Ha, or even before.  Cold Russian winters, man.  You can’t tell me every Russian doesn’t know how to knit.

 

> HERA

That sounds like a stereotype to me.

 

> EIFFEL

You’re not defending him, are you?

 

> HERA

Knitting’s a useful skill!

 

> EIFFEL

So you’re saying he does know how to knit.

 

> HERA

Have you ever looked at his socks?

 

> EIFFEL

… Hera, why the hell would I ever look at Doctor Zhivago’s socks?

_He doesn’t wait for an answer._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

I wonder what else he’s hiding.  What else he knows. I mean, there’s all the evil secrets.  I bet his list of “top ten ways humans can die in sixty seconds” would be even less fun than yours.  Lobotomy with a knitting needle?  Necessity is the mother of invention.  I wonder what kind of music he likes.  Does he even listen to music?  What does he do for fun?  Apart from torture people.

 

> HERA

I have no idea.

 

> EIFFEL

I think you’re bluffing.  You have access to the personnel files.  Surely there’s some … lesser-known information in there.

 

> HERA

If there is, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say.

 

> EIFFEL

Even to little ol’ me, even about little ol’ sadist?

 

> HERA

Yes, Doug, even to you, even about Hilbert.  As much as I’d like to spill his guts over the station floor, it’s … not that easy.

_Eiffel SIGHS._

 

> EIFFEL

Well, I guess I’ll just have to make do with daydreaming.

 

 

**INT.  U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – OBSERVATION DECK – 2200 HOURS**

_Hilbert GRUMBLES.  Papers SHIFT._

 

> HILBERT

The Ziemann coefficient of this acceleration vector makes no sense.  How could we have moved from here to … here … in this …

_Papers SHUFFLE again, then abruptly stop._

 

> HILBERT (cont'd)

Ah.  Because communications officer is idiot who cannot keep his dates straight.

_SCRIBBLING._

 

> HILBERT (cont'd)

If this entry actually that date, and this one is there, then Ziemann coefficients sensible.  Fine.

_He YAWNS, SHUFFLES more papers, and returns to SCRIBBLING.  A beat after, the door OPENS with a SWISH, then CLOSES._

 

> HILBERT (cont'd)

Have told you, Commander, your offer of help with calculations is appreciated but not needed—

 

> LOVELACE

I don’t remember asking to help you with anything, Selberg.

_The SCRIBBLING stops._

 

> HILBERT

Ah.  Captain.  Thought you were Minkowski.  She was by earlier.  Could not sleep.

 

> LOVELACE

So what, she asked you to put her to sleep with some math?  Wouldn’t have pegged Minkowski as the masochistic type.  At least, not that masochistic.

 

> HILBERT

_[sotto voce]_ Hmph.  _[aloud]_ Commander Minkowski occasionally suffers insomnia attacks.  Longhand astronavigational calculations take time and concentration.  Often have … soporific effect.

 

> LOVELACE

Why’d you turn her down then?

 

> HILBERT

Navigational data of vital importance to Hephaestus functionality.  Cannot afford mistakes committed due to fatigue.  Would have had to go over the Commander’s work in any case, so, politely refused.  Why are you asking?  You know this.

 

> LOVELACE

Just curious.

 

> HILBERT

Forgive me if I am ... skeptical.

 

> LOVELACE

That makes two of us.

 

> HILBERT

May I ask, Captain, why exactly you are here?

 

> LOVELACE

This is an observation deck, isn’t it?  I’m here to observe.

 

> HILBERT

Observe _what_?

 

> LOVELACE

Whatever the hell I want.  This is my ship, after all.

 

> HILBERT

… Of course.  You will pardon me if I return to my work.

 

> LOVELACE

Certainly.

_SILENCE for several beats.  Then the papers SHUFFLE again, and the SCRIBBLING starts._

 

 

**INT.  U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – COMMUNICATIONS ROOM – 2215 HOURS**

 

> EIFFEL

And then, Comrade Hilbertina falls back in the snow, her lips turning a delicate shade of blue as she whispers “go on without me, Alexander!”

 

> HERA

Oh God.

 

> EIFFEL

He closes her eyes one last time, salvages her coat, takes the locket from around her neck to remember her by, and trudges out into the blizzard, too frozen to cry the tears that threaten to overwhelm him.

 

> HERA

Make it stop.

 

> EIFFEL

He treks on, one frostbitten foot after the other, until he collapses on the doorstep of an old hut, where an ancient grandmother takes him in and nurses him back to health, and it turns out she’s secretly a Goddard Futuristics recruiting agent and was watching him the whole time, waiting for him to break down enough to be remolded into their perfect killing machine—

 

> HERA

That is not … actually, that’s remarkably similar to some of their recruiting practices, so I’ll give you that one.

 

> EIFFEL

\--except they hardly need to, because watching his only love lose hope for her art after being cruelly abused by the communist ideological machine, and having to leave her in the desolate tundra of Siberia, has turned him into a cold, dead, heartless man, ready to do anything to get back at those bastards who hurt her.

_Eiffel’s talking faster now.  This flight of fancy is getting away from him._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

Cutter whisks him away to Canaveral and gives him wave after wave of Soviet pee-oh-double-you’s to test out his darling theories, performing sadistic experiments on unknowing not-so-innocent people while making them utterly dependent on him for their livelihood, giving himself the control he so desperately wanted, the agency they tore away from him.

 

> HERA

Um—

 

> EIFFEL

Every night, before he goes to bed, he still looks at the locket.  But he still can’t cry.  It’s like the tears froze on that arctic plain, so many years ago, and he still can’t get them out.

 

> HERA

Doug—

 

> EIFFEL

He’d do anything to bring her back.  Anything.  But he can’t, and he knows it, so he toys with the lives of little people to bring him some small comfort in that someone else is suffering just as much as he is.

 

> HERA

Doug.

_Eiffel snaps out of it._

 

> EIFFEL, sheepish.

Uh, yeah.  The end.  That … got away from me.

 

> HERA

I’ll say.

 

 

**INT. U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – OBSERVATION DECK – 2230 HOURS**

_Papers SHUFFLE.  Pen SCRIBBLES.  Hilbert GRUNTS occasionally.  Sometimes you can make out numbers.  Every once in a while, Lovelace makes some sort of “hm!” noise, like she’s interested by something.  It’s not clear what.  Every time Lovelace makes a noise, the scribbling and shuffling stop for a beat, then start again.  About the third time this happens, Hilbert can’t take it anymore._

 

> HILBERT

What.  Is it.

 

> LOVELACE

Hm?  Oh, nothing.  Just admiring the solar flares.

 

> HILBERT

Right.  Of course.  Solar flares.  Fascinating.

 

> LOVELACE

I’m sorry, is there a problem?

 

> HILBERT

… No, Captain.

 

> LOVELACE

Good.  I didn’t think so.

_Same as opening.  This time, though, Lovelace only manages to make one noise before Hilbert exclaims:_

 

> HILBERT

No.  No.  You are not admiring the solar flares.  There was no flare.  And you went “hm”.

 

> LOVELACE

Particularly interesting sunspot.

 

> HILBERT

Oh yes.  Sunspots.  Lovely this time of year.  Captain.If you would be so kind, I would really like to continue my work\--

 

> LOVELACE

By all means!  Don’t let me stop you _._

_Hilbert GROWLS slightly._

 

> HILBERT

Might I suggest the primary observation deck for your … admiration.

 

> LOVELACE

Suggestion noted and denied.  I like the view from here.

 

> HILBERT

The difference.  Is.  Miniscule.

 

> LOVELACE

Oh, the difference is significant, for my purposes.

 

> HILBERT

Aha!  So you admit it!  You are not here to observe the star at all!  You are here to—to—to sabotage my work!

 

> LOVELACE

Don’t flatter yourself, Selberg.  You and I both know you’ll check those calculations at least twice more before giving them to Minkowski to give to Hera.  Besides, it’s not like they gave it to you for any other reason than to keep you busy on something that isn’t actively killing people.

 

> HILBERT

My work is not actively killing people!  Precisely the opposite!  I am working to save lives!

_Lovelace’s voice is thin.  You can tell her jaw is clenched._

 

> LOVELACE

Tell that to Lambert and Hui.

 

> HILBERT

I had no other way!

 

> LOVELACE

Bullshit _._ You’re smart enough.  You could have found one.  You just like hurting people.

 

> HILBERT

What is the expression?  Pot, meet kettle?

 

> LOVELACE

You shut your mouth.

 

 

**INT. U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – COMMUNICATIONS ROOM – 2235 HOURS**

 

> EIFFEL

Maybe I’m not cut out for fanfiction.

 

> HERA

I’d keep your day job if I were you.

_Eiffel LAUGHS._

 

> EIFFEL

What time is it?

 

> HERA

You have a clock.

 

> EIFFEL

It’s so much more fun to ask you.

_Hera SIGHS._

 

> HERA

Twenty-two hundred thirty-eight hours.

 

> EIFFEL

That only took forty minutes?!  Oh my God this night is never going to end.

 

> HERA

Technically, time is passing at the same speed regardless of your perception of it.

 

> EIFFEL

Thanks Einstein.

 

> HERA

You’re welcome.

_A beat._

 

> EIFFEL

Who would you ship Minkowski with?

 

> HERA

I’m sorry, what?

 

> EIFFEL

Who would you ship Minkowski with?

 

> HERA

I don’t think I understand the question.  Ship her how?  Where?  In what?

 

> EIFFEL

No no no, ship.  Like relationship.  Who would you ship her with?

 

> HERA

… She’s married.

 

> EIFFEL

Oh, right, shit, I guess that’s a little awkward.  Uh, okay.  How about Lovelace?

 

> HERA

Um.

 

> EIFFEL

God, things get weird when a quarter of the options are off-limits because of the bonds of matrimony.  You know what, forget that.  What happens in Space Vegas stays in Space Vegas.  Minkowski’s back on the table.  How about her and Lovelace?  Can you see it?

 

> HERA

Uh.  No.  Not really.  They don’t get along very well.

 

> EIFFEL

But what if it’s all a front?  What if they’re secretly madly in love with each other?

 

> HERA

I really don’t—

 

> EIFFEL

An intense rivalry, forged in the bonds of nuclear fission, as these intrepid women vie for control of one eensy weensy little space station out in the middle of effing nowhere – but off the clock, illicit encounters, steamy makeout sessions in the greenhouse hiding from the plant monster, quick shackups in the broom closet, always over too soon before they have to go back to being mortal enemies.  Always living with the knowledge that behind those fiery eyes lies a passionate soul.

 

> HERA

May I repeat: oh God.

 

> EIFFEL

I dunno, I think it feels a little cliché.  Not quite “oh God” material, if you ask me.  Too titillating, not enough angst.  You gotta have angst to make a good fanfic.

 

> HERA, drily.

Of course.  How could I forget.

_Eiffel SNAPS his fingers._

 

> EIFFEL

That’s it!  The perfect pairing!

 

> HERA

Dare I ask.

 

> EIFFEL

Lovelace and Hilbert _._   Just think about it!

 

> HERA

I’d really rather not.

 

> EIFFEL

The two survivors, their dead friends ever close in memory.  One blasts off, trying to make it to safety.  You get a tearful farewell, because there’s only room for one on the tiny little shuttle.

 

> HERA

There’s clearly room for—

 

> EIFFEL

And then, when Hilbert wakes up, he finds out she’s dead, fallen into the star.  His heart, broken again!

 

> HERA

Oh, is Hilbertina still a thing?

 

> EIFFEL

Yeah yeah, of course, you can never have too much angst.  A second lost love!  Just when he had started to believe in love again!  Just when the tears frozen in his soul were beginning to thaw in the hot light of the red dwarf and of her dark gaze!

 

> HERA

Oh my God.

 

> EIFFEL

Now you’re getting it!  He toils away, frozen even deeper than before, determined to never open his heart to another, his darling Isabel lost forever to the depths of the flaming ball just outside his window.  One day, the new crew arrive.  A bumbling fool, and a shockingly intelligent communications officer.

 

> HERA

You are so lucky Minkowski’s asleep.

 

> EIFFEL

But neither of them can hold a candle to his stellar flame, the beautiful Lovelace!  He should have known, it’s true, it was in her name all along – love-less, no love, it was doomed from the start.  And so he throws himself into his work, turning again to brutal cruelty and sadistic torture to fill the void in his soul that only she could ever fill.

_Hera GROANS._

 

> EIFFEL

But there’s a plot twist!  After his plan to mutiny and kill his fellow crew members goes awry, he is surprised by a new visitor … back from the dead, his immortal Isabel!  He believes that he’s finally lost his mind, but no, it’s her, in the flesh, alive after all!  Now they skirt around each other, each fearful of rekindling their romance.  He is afraid he will lose her again; she, afraid he is no longer the man she loved.

 

> HERA

You know, those canisters of knock-out gas are still installed.

 

> EIFFEL

Hmph.  No appreciation for art.

 

 

**INT. U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – OBSERVATION DECK – 2245 HOURS**

_We pick up exactly where we left off._

 

> HILBERT, darkly.

Is that an order, Captain?

 

> LOVELACE, hissed.

Wouldn’t you like it to be.

 

> HILBERT, sarcastic.

Careful.  We would not want your heart rate to ... rise.

 

> LOVELACE

I’m perfectly in control of myself, not that it’s any of your concern.

 

> HILBERT

Is that right.  In that case, you will not mind if I ask a few questions.

 

> LOVELACE

Go ahead.  Shoot.

 

> HILBERT

Why are you here?

 

> LOVELACE

My shuttle went in a big old circle.

_Hilbert GRUNTS._

 

> HILBERT

No.  Why are you here?

 

> LOVELACE

Like I said, to observe.

 

> HILBERT

What are you observing?

 

> LOVELACE

The star.

 

> HILBERT

Try again.

 

> LOVELACE

The infinity of space.

 

> HILBERT

As our dear communications officer would say, two strikes.

_Lovelace CHUCKLES mirthlessly._

 

> LOVELACE

What happens on the third strike?

 

> HILBERT

I tell Minkowski about your little visit.

 

> LOVELACE

And why should that make me pause?  I’m in command here.

 

> HILBERT, evenly.

Of course.  Of course!  But.  You wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong … idea … about you dropping by.

_Lovelace’s eyes narrow and her jawline sets.  He’s called her bluff._

 

> HILBERT (cont'd)

So, once again: what are you observing?

 

> LOVELACE

… Just making sure you’re not getting into any trouble.

 

> HILBERT

I am handcuffed to this table, which is bolted to the floor.  What trouble, precisely, would I be able to get into?

 

> LOVELACE

You’d find a way.

 

> HILBERT

And all the other times that I am here without supervision?  The Hephaestus is still here, you will notice.

 

> LOVELACE

You’re plotting.  You’re always plotting.

 

> HILBERT

Yes.  Plotting navigational charts.  Decima data.  Alien transmissions.  I plot many things.

 

> LOVELACE

Including people’s deaths.

_Hilbert SIGHS._

 

> LOVELACE (cont’d)

I know you.  I’ve known you for a long time, Elias.  Longer than anyone else on this boat.  I know you like killing.  And I know why you like killing.

 

> HILBERT, tiredly.

Are you finished?

 

> LOVELACE

Not nearly.  I—

 

> HILBERT

Yes, yes.  I know how this goes.  Elias, you are a sadist.  Alexander, you are a monster.  Dmitri, stop pulling the wings off the flies, it hurts them.  Captain, I have heard every one of these admonishments and more.  I promise you, you will not find a new one.  You will not succeed in whatever it is you are trying to do.  Please, return to whatever it was you were doing before you decided to come and bother me, and let me return to my work.  You will find only cold comfort in poking at poor old Dmitri now.  It is not worth your time.

_There is SILENCE for a moment.  It feels tired, like a pause after an argument that’s been had a dozen times._

 

> LOVELACE

Well.  That’s new.

 

> HILBERT

What is.

 

> LOVELACE

That’s … not the response I was expecting.

 

> HILBERT

We have both changed, … Isabel.

 

> LOVELACE

So it would seem.

_More SILENCE._

 

> LOVELACE (cont’d)

You killed my crew.

 

> HILBERT

I did not enjoy it.

 

> LOVELACE

But you did it.

 

> HILBERT

I wanted to save them.

 

> LOVELACE

Really.

 

> HILBERT

I did not know enough.

 

> LOVELACE

I don’t believe you.

 

> HILBERT

I cannot say that surprises me.  You were always skeptical.  Vindictive.  … Confident.

 

> LOVELACE

Ha.  That’s a laugh.

_Again, SILENCE._

 

> HILBERT

Are we finished?  May I return to my work?

 

> LOVELACE

Don’t you ever sleep?

 

> HILBERT

Not frequently.

 

> LOVELACE

Their faces keep you up at night?

 

> HILBERT

I could ask the same of you.

 

> LOVELACE

This ship is crewed by human disasters.

_Hilbert CHUCKLES darkly._

 

> LOVELACE (cont’d)

I can’t forgive you.

_Hilbert makes some sort of noncommittal noise that is accompanied by a shrug._

 

> HILBERT

I have long since passed the point of desiring forgiveness.

 

> LOVELACE

I still hate you.

 

> HILBERT

I believe Officer Eiffel would be quite amenable to discussing this with you, should you wish.

 

> LOVELACE

Why are you so goddamned calm?

 

> HILBERT

What is the point?  I am stuck here.  I do not have access to my laboratory, I do not have access to my things.  I have only paper and numbers, and, how did you put it, the infinity of space.  This is all I have had for months now.  Before that, I had my work, and the infinity of space.  Before that still, I had my work, and the confines of earth.  Why get angry?  Why get sad?  These things have no point.

 

> LOVELACE

You are a sad little man.

 

> HILBERT

Perhaps.  Or a well-adjusted one.

_The door CREAKS open, but does not close.  There is a pause, before:_

 

> LOVELACE

You’re wrong about one thing.

 

> HILBERT

And what is that?

 

> LOVELACE

You’re not a sadist.

 

> HILBERT

No.  One untrue accusation among many.

_Another pause, then the door CREAKS shut._

 

> HILBERT (cont’d)

Besides …

_Papers SHUFFLE._

 

> HILBERT (cont’d)

That was always your job.

 

_CREDITS._

 

**INT. U.S.S. HEPHAESTUS STATION – COMMS ROOM – 2345 HOURS**

 

> EIFFEL

“ … and, philosophically,” he says, “I deduce that we are, in fact, tiny specks in this great universe.  Why, Holmes, what do you deduce?”  “You idiot, Watson,” Holmes says, “someone’s stolen our tent!”

_Eiffel laughs._

 

> HERA

Ha ha.

 

> EIFFEL

What, not a Holmes fan?

 

> HERA

That joke’s really only funny the first hundred times.

 

> EIFFEL

Fair enough.  You got something better to do?  I could always continue the adventures of Hilbert and Lovelace!

 

> HERA

No, no, old jokes are fine.

 

> EIFFEL

Great.  Knock knock!

 

> HERA

Who’s there.

 

> EIFFEL

Interrupting cow!

 

> HERA

Interrupting cow who?

 

> EIFFEL, interrupting during the above.

Moo!

_He laughs._

 

> EIFFEL (cont’d)

I love that one.  What time is it now?

 

> HERA, long-suffering.

Twenty-three hundred and forty-six hours.


End file.
